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Lisa Hess applies her styles to a new persona. 


Recently, I had the opportunity to perform in a play, something I haven't done in almost a decade. As a woman of a certain age, my biggest concerns were memorizing lines and driving at night, both skills that seem to be fading faster than I would like. Much to my delight, I managed to successfully accomplish both of those things, adding an unexpected confidence boost to the joy of doing something I love. 

One of the things I never even considered to be a potential challenge was getting dressed. My character in Steel Magnolias, in addition to not so coincidentally being a woman of a certain age, is also a woman of means and much higher fashion maintenance than I. As I write this, on a day I'm not teaching, I'm in my usual uniform of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, with minimal jewelry and no accessories unless you count fuzzy socks.  

Like Actor, Like Character? 

Clairee, on the other hand, is a woman of many accessories. Every costume had multiple pieces and overlapping accessories (why wear just a necklace when a necklace and a scarf add extra panache?) With the exception of her first outfit, which I donned before the show started, I had limited time to transform my sweatshirt-wearing self into a classy lady with an equally classy wardrobe.  

Enter something else I love: organization. 

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First came the hangers. As someone with an I need to see it personal style, I was overwhelmed by all those costume pieces hanging amid other people's costume pieces on a crowded rack. In addition, I hate wire hangers (things always fall off!) so they needed to go. Armed with tubular hangers that had hooks so I could hang all the pieces of one costume together vertically, I re-hung all but my final outfit. I had a quick change for that one, and needed to respect the styles and processes of the dressers who'd be helping me backstage. 

Next, it was time to corral the jewelry. I started by putting the myriad pieces into the purses belonging to the outfits they went with. This was a great idea in terms of keeping everything together, but a terrible plan for someone with an I need to see it personal style.

Way back when I taught organizing skills to 10- and 11-year-olds, I'd purchased an inexpensive purple leopard-print cardboard organizer divided into compartments. One night before a dress rehearsal, I pulled all the jewelry back out of the purses and set it up, outfit by outfit, in the compartments. Everything I needed was now visible, and all the accessories for each outfit were together in one spot. 

Same Style, Different Space 

While we're familiar with putting our own organizational spin on our homes and workplaces, we don't often think of taking it on the road, so to speak. And, to be honest, I've never done this sort of a set-up for a play before. But when I realized the anxiety I was feeling about keeping it all together could be easily remedied by playing to my styles, I jumped in.

I had to adapt to the space available (a larger jewelry organizer would have taken over too much common space) and to other people's styles, but that was a small price to pay for the peace of mind that came along with making sure things weren't just organized, but visible and easily accessible. 

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In the play, my character says, "The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize." With both apologies and gratitude to Clairee (my character) and Robert Harling (the playwright), my tongue-in-cheek retort would be that the only thing that separates us from chaos is our ability to organize. 

According to our styles, of course. 

 

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Copyright 2025 Lisa Hess
Images: Canva